The Universe Isn't That Lazy
by Little Red Umbrella
Summary: Sherlock's clever and cunning mind sketches out a new concept for him, a vision he never imagined seeing. But maybe...he likes the idea of the last name "Holmes" belonging to more than just himself. One-Shot. Like, review, thank you!


Something clutched the sheets towards the edge of the bed. The detective woke up to the gentle tugging of them, which jerked his body slightly as well. Judging by the area in which the force was coming from, and by the force of the tug itself, these had to be small hands. And if they were small hands, they couldn't belong to Molly, who usually resorts to dragging him out of bed. It couldn't have been baby Milo either, who was too little to even climb out of his crib. So there was only one solution left. He opened his eyes.  
"Daddy! Mummy says the pancakes are ready and you're not even up yet!"  
Sherlock smiled and reached over to stroke her hair. "Good morning to you too, Lily."  
"Come on daddy, the pancakes are gonna be cold if you don't get out of bed!"  
Sherlock chuckled and sat up enthusiastically, scooping the toddler into his arms. Her jet black curls bounced as he stood up with her, and she rested her head on his shoulder. Sherlock shuffled out of the bedroom in his flannel pajama pants and t-shirt. Molly was setting a huge stack of pancakes on the table, right next to the maple syrup and whipped cream. She had also laid out a series of fruits: blueberries, strawberries and cherries. And on top of it all, she had set down a plate of freshly cooked bacon. Sherlock sniffed the air and took in the glorious aroma that came from Molly's hard work.  
"Good morning, darling," he said, setting Lily down onto the ground. Molly smiled and kissed his cheek. Over in the corner, baby Milo was grabbing the bars of his crib and bouncing slightly. Sherlock smiled and walked over to his crib, lifting him into his arms gently. Even though this was his second child, he was still nervous of holding him. As a five-month old child, he was more precious than the diamonds he had helped recover last week.  
"Sherlock, come! I'm not letting you leave for work without eating again," Molly scolded.  
"You know I get breakfast in the mornings," he replied, walking over with Milo in his arms. Molly creased her eyebrows and gave him "the eye".  
"I know you don't eat breakfast. You can't lie to me."  
"Alright fine. I must admit, I'm impressed with the developement of your deduction skills. How did you figure it out?"  
"I didn't have to 'deduce' anything. We're married, I know you what you're up to. You're thinner than the bones you find at your beloved crime scenes."  
"So you made this...absolutely fantastic breakfast just so that I'd be motivated to eat in the mornings?"  
"Doesn't matter why I made it, it just matters that you'll sit and eat it."  
Sherlock looked over at the table, seeing that Lily had already taken the liberty of shoving some onto her plate, a stack about five pancakes high. He came over to her and reached into the blueberry bowel, sticking them onto the top pancake and forming a "smiley" face. Lily giggled and poured syrup all over the stack, then digging in with her fork and knife. Sherlock ruffled her hair, fixed his grip on Milo and pulled out a chair for Molly to sit. She obliged gladly.  
As the family sat down to eat, Milo whined a little. Molly took him from Sherlock's arms and bounced lightly him with a smile.  
"Hungry, little guy?" She rubbed his back gently, excusing herself from the table and going into his nursery to feed him.  
Sherlock finished his portion of breakfast, but reached over for one more strip of bacon and ate it casually. Molly was right, he probably shouldn't be skipping out on breakfast all the time. He glanced over at his daughter, who had finished her plate a while ago and was curiously tapping her fingers on her glass of orange juice. He smiled and sipped his coffee.  
"Why don't you come with daddy to the field today?" he asked her.  
Lily glanced up at him. "What about kindergarten?"  
"You won't be going, not today, if you don't want to. I'll be taking you with me."  
He loved the way her eyes lit up in the moment. Every since she was born, she had these moments where all of the diamonds in the world couldn't match the shine in her eyes, and Sherlock looked forward to every moment of it. She nodded quickly and jumped from her chair.  
"Mummy!" she cried out. "I'm not going to kindergarten today! Daddy says I can go with him!"  
Molly stormed out of the room with baby Milo still at her breast. "Sherlock! You can't take her out there, she's only four!"  
"She won't be harmed, Molly, I promise. This is good for her, what will she miss in a day? A coloring sheet? Nap time? We'll be fine."  
Molly sighed shallowly and wiped Milo's mouth. "Alright honey. Go get changed."  
Lily ran off to her room excitingly. Sherlock too, changed into his daily attire. Molly grabbed his scarf from the rack and threw around his neck, tying it like she did every day and kissed him. The detective kissed her back and then kissed the head of his son, handing his daughter her black peacoat and taking her by the hand. The door shut behind them.

_"Sherlock?"  
Something clutched at his jacket, tugging at it roughly. The detective woke up sharply and rubbed his temples, straightening his legs. They were sore, given that he had fallen asleep curled up in the armchair in his living room. He yawned widely and blinked, pulling himself up.  
"You haven't slept like this in ages. Are you alright?"  
"Yeah...yeah I'm fine, John." Sherlock lifted himself out of the chair and fixed his scarf. He stretched and walked into the kitchen to find coffee prepared.  
"Has Mrs. Hudson made breakfast?" he asked.  
"No...she knows you don't take breakfast." John creased his eyebrows and came over to him. "Are you sure you're alright, Sherlock?"  
"I told you John, I'm perfectly fine."  
"Good, you're supposed to meet Molly around one o'clock before the coroners come in for the body from the Donovan case, remember?"  
Molly? He had completely forgotten. After a dream like that, he wasn't sure if he could face her. Because he felt something, and now it made him feel threatened by her. If felt foreign to him. A new emotion, and he couldn't help it as much as he tried._


End file.
